


Right-Hand Man

by Mireille



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-18
Updated: 2005-09-18
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Andrew was well on the way to making himself indispensable.





	Right-Hand Man

After only five months in London, Andrew was well on the way to making himself indispensable. Not that Mr. Giles had said as much, of course, but Andrew had come to view British stoicism as yet another thing to appreciate about a nation that had given the world _Doctor Who_ , J.R.R. Tolkien, _and_ James Bond. Just because Mr. Giles didn't _say_ that he couldn't dream of rebuilding the Council without Andrew's invaluable assistance didn't mean that wasn't how he felt. 

Mr. Giles wasn't good at expressing his emotions, after all. When they'd been in the Cleveland Days Inn, all packed into Buffy and Dawn's room for a high-level strategy meeting, Andrew had volunteered to go to London with him to help set up the new Council. He'd only shaken his head and said, "If you must. I suppose you'll do less damage there than anywhere else I could send you."

At the time, that had kind of stung, but by now, Andrew was an expert at deciphering Ye Olde Stiff Upper Lip, and he reali _s_ ed (Andrew had started hissing the 's' in words like 'realise' and 'prioritise' just to make certain his new countrymen were aware he was spelling it the proper British way) that it was just Mr. Giles' way of hiding how glad he was to have Andrew as the padawan to his Jedi. Not that he'd trade Mr. Giles for Obi-Wan Kenobi, even the Alec Guinness version. 

And obviously, Mr. Giles thought Andrew would make a fine second-in-command, or he wouldn't be spending so much time training him. Oh, sure, he _said_ it was so he didn't have to worry that Andrew would get himself killed by an angry kitten on his way home from the office one night, but Andrew knew that was just his way to cover his admiration for Andrew's ability to handle a gun. 

Yes, he'd become quite adept at reading between the lines over the past few months, as he and Mr. Giles worked long hours, shoulder to shoulder, as the Watchers' Council was reborn from the ashes. That was how he knew that Mr. Giles would be lost without him. 

And not only on a professional level; Andrew was quite sure of that. Mr. Giles kept finding excuses to spend time with Andrew. The "weapons training" (not to mention the hand-to-hand combat training, which it didn't take a formerly-evil genius to see was a thinly-veiled excuse for physical contact, even if the contact did mostly consist of Andrew getting knocked onto the floor). The number of times a day Mr. Giles called Andrew into his office to ask him to redo his paperwork--"without the imaginary details, please, Andrew"--or to give him some vital filing task to do, something confidential he could never trust anyone else with. Coded messages, usually, that looked like receipts and bank statements and the electric bill. 

Andrew just had to wait for the desire to break through that intriguing British reserve. It would happen one of these days; he was sure of it. All he had to do was be patient, and eventually, Mr. Giles would admit how important Andrew was to him. 

Right now, the _other_ thing Andrew had to do was bring him the cup of tea he'd asked for. It had taken a bit longer than it should have, because some of the newest Slayers were around and he'd had to make certain they knew the _real_ story of what had happened in Sunnydale. 

Mr. Giles was on the phone when Andrew came in; he waved impatiently for Andrew to set the teacup down on his desk. "Yes. Yes, if you're correct, then that's certainly--yes. Of course I'll send--" He looked up at Andrew then, suddenly smiling. "I know just who to send you," he said. "My right-hand man, in fact. I'll put him on the next flight." He hung up the phone a moment later. "I trust you were listening?" he said to Andrew.

Of course, he was listening; Andrew always listened to him. He nodded, and Mr. Giles went on. "There's a problem in Los Angeles. I'll send a Slayer team, of course, but I think this could use your special attention. Not to mention that you can't possibly have enough to do here, if you've the time to hover over me the way you've been doing lately."

Andrew just grinned. His right-hand man, he thought. He'd go to Los Angeles, handle the job--whatever it was--with his usual aplomb, and come back to an impressed, and appreciative, Mr. Giles. 

Oh, yes. Coming to England had been the best thing he'd ever done.

**Author's Note:**

> The things I will write for a charity donation.... *facepalms*
> 
> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


End file.
